


Settling Dust

by BeanBean8



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Canon Compliant, Episode: s03e18 The Citadel, Gen, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I only use canon for hurt, Not beta read we die like Jesse, Serious Injuries, author is sorry, but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27140464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeanBean8/pseuds/BeanBean8
Summary: "The second the explosion sounded, Echo knew he was dead."Echo survived. Perhaps it would have been better if he hadn't.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	Settling Dust

**Author's Note:**

> Im tired. This has been sitting in my folders for two weeks. Voila.

The second the explosion sounded, Echo knew he was dead. He hadn’t moved quickly enough, months of ARC training beaten with exhaustion and an unlucky blast. Echo had expected to die.

He hadn’t expected pain. Sharp and jagged lumps of debris pressed down on his beaten body, crushing his back and his legs, cracking and splitting the plastoid armour. Searing pain shot through his right arm, he could feel the blood dripping around his wrist. It was unbearable, blocking out most cohesive thoughts that dared try and interrupt.

Faintly, over the sound of fire and destruction, he heard the cry of his brother before the noise of a retreat. Fives wasn’t coming back for him.

Somehow, that knowledge was both reassuring and terrifying. His brother would be safe, or as safe as one could be in a war. Fives, as impulsive as he could be, had a good head on his shoulders. And, if he was lucky enough, it could serve him well to survive the war. If he could just make it out of the Citadel, anything was worth the price of his brother’s safety.

But, that left Echo alone. He was injured, critically so if his basic grasp of medicine was anything to go by. And he was in enemy territory, alone, presumed dead, trapped under debris, with no help of rescue. As far as situations went, it couldn’t get more grim. Though the 501st often claimed to never leave a brother for dead, it was hard to uphold that promise when said brother was buried under mounds of wreckage and presumed to already be marching away.

He took a deep breath and instantly regretted it. In the blast, his helmet had been thrown from his head, letting him inhale the dusty and ash filled air. His lungs seized, hacking coughs drowning out the distant blasterfire and creaking of durasteel. The movement shot pain through his back, freezing his body in place for a brief moment as his spine screamed in agony.

So moving, it seemed, was out of the question. And that didn't really leave Echo with any options. The black spots that crept over his vision indicated that perhaps escaping wouldn't be necessary. It was unlikely he would survive this.

Echo sighed and stopped trying to move, closing his eyes. He didn't want to see his vision blue and fade. And perhaps, if he tried just hard enough, he could imagine the faces of his brothers beside him.

As he felt his grasp of reality slip away, he spared a final thought to wish Fives luck with the rest of the war.

* * *

Echo wasn't sure what he expected to wake up to. Really, he hadn't expected to wake up at all. So when he opened his eyes, he was considering the possibility that he was dead, and that he was wherever vode went when they marched away. 

Two seconds later, reality made itself violently known.

The pain was hard to describe. As if something, or someone, was tearing his body apart piece by piece. Piercing whines and bright lights stunned his ability to make sense of his surroundings, leaving him brutally unaware of what was happening.

Whatever had happened to his legs, it couldn't have been good. Because he couldn't feel them anymore. His thighs were searing with pain, tiny sensations of sparks accompanying a sensation of ripping. But below that, nothing. As if his legs weren't there at all.

Tiny needles tore at his back, pricking at his spine. They pressed hard into his body, he wanted to scream. Echo opened his mouth, but his voice barely managed to choke out a muffled cry. 

The sensations were overwhelming. His back, his legs, his arm, whatever was going on with his head, he couldn't bear it. Already, his vision was turning spotty as he desperately tried to move or scream or do anything. But he was tried down, helpless.

Echo knew he couldn't stay awake for much longer, unconsciousness was already calling his name. And he wouldn't fight it. Perhaps he would be lucky, and when he awoke, he might be somewhere nicer. 

Perhaps he could be with his brothers.

* * *

Republic troops would soon be in that sector.

Republic troops would be using the tactics of CT-7567.

He knew those tactics.

And they wanted to know what they were.

They wanted to know troop tactics. They wanted to know why the clone squad wasn't moving as predicted. They wanted to know how to beat them.

And now they wanted to know who, or what, he was. 

It was hard to fight when all the world was code and pain.

"CT-1409"


End file.
